Bow Ties That Bind
by dreamsoflove311
Summary: Part of the LBD universe. The saga of Lizzie's fascination with Darcy's ties. Chapters will be short and sweet!
1. Chapter 1

Right from the beginning she develops an unholy fascination with his neckwear. Bow ties…really? It makes her angry that something so eye-catching is being worn by a man who does his best to be aloof from everyone.

She bumps into him one morning at Netherfield in the hallway. Too busy furiously texting her mother about when they can return home to pay attention to where she's headed, she rounds a corner straight into him. His focus is elsewhere too, one hand reaches out on impact to keep her from falling—the other is occupied with the length of fabric draped around his shoulders. They both step back awkwardly and he hurriedly knots his tie—like it's inappropriate for him to be seen in public without one.

The twists and pulls of his fingers against the fabric knot her stomach with irrational anger. As if he wasn't already imposing enough, all six feet of him, topped off with burning blue eyes that revile and judge. The ever-present, official looking knot at his throat makes him even more intimidating, her wardrobe feels somehow inferior.

Before Darcy she's never known a strip of fabric to be so captivating. Running down the chest, stopping just short of the belt, or looped into a little bow just under the chin...it draws her attention to the column of his throat, to the pulse in his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, the wide expanse of his shoulders. She hates how aware she is of him. She just…she hates him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Here's a nice short chapter to kick off the morning, and chapter 3 will probably be up tonight!**

She daydreams about those ties… Wants to wind the fabric around her fists, shake some sense or emotion into him.

She'll never admit to the shocking amount of times those angry dreams turn to fantasies…pulling him closer, pulling him down, forceful. Dominating the man who dominates everyone else…totally hot. But no, that's not what she wants—she tells herself—it's just that hate walks a fine line with…other emotions that have no place between Darcy and her.

Regardless of how many times those bow ties of his catch her wandering mind, she won't soften and she won't budge. Any hope of amicability went out the window with her knowledge of his part in Jane's broken heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Time goes on and she learns things, receives new information. Things become even more foggy and gray than they were before. It was so much easier when she hated him. She's softening towards him, against her own will. She calls him virtuous, says he's not so bad. Puts those confessions on the internet for all to hear and make what they would of them. She's not sure she hates him any more, but she's also not sure that she's forgiven him. Except…

He changes into a bow tie for costume theater. For her. In that moment, the sight of him makes her forget that she's ever found him pretentious. Even after the awkward topic of conversation, and his abrupt departure, she finds herself glossing over those things, her mind content to rest on the shy but slightly rebellious expression he'd worn upon arriving at her office "in costume."

She smiles now, every time she sees him wearing a bow tie after that day. The memory of Darcy willingly becoming a newsie for her… she'll never detest a bow tie again.


	4. Chapter 4

It's getting on late evening at Pemberly Digital when she finds him alone in a conference room working—papers and files spread all around, laptop off to the side, its fan a low hum in the background. The one day she happens to stay late she runs in to him in the mostly deserted building…figures. His hair is finger rumpled out of its usual impeccably coiffed state, shirt untucked and wrinkled at the bottom, bow tie still on but slightly askew—one loop tucked under his collar. Her presence startles him, slightly unfocused eyes settle on her frame at the door.

"Lizzie. You're…still here."

"So are you."

"Yes. Well, busy day."

"Ah…same." Stilted and awkward was a conversation staple for them.

"I hope you're still finding every thing here to your liking." His eyes were focused on her now, coming out of his work trance.

"Uh, yeah, everything is perfect. This place really is amazing." Slightly less awkward now—Pemberly Digital is a safe topic, mostly common ground. He rubs at his chin, unblinking, all piercing blue eyes and 5 o'clock shadow.

Her fingers itch, twitch—long to twist the knot at his throat back into place, or maybe pull it off altogether. Slide it from under the stiff collar, feel the coarse silk against her skin. He must see her gaze, feel it. He reaches up, loosens the bow, pulls it through the collar the way she's just envisioned. She clears her throat and looks away.

"Well, I'm just gonna go, you know, get my stuff, clear out of here for the night. See you." She offers a small upwards twist of her lips and flees.


	5. Chapter 5

I seems that neckwear is a must even on their weekend off and tour of the city. No bow tie, no standard tie, but a scarf wound around his neck today. Leather draped shoulders and hipster glasses complete the look. A few months ago she would have found this pretentious and ridiculous, but now…kinda hot.

Today she gets to experience casual Darcy. He's as courteous as ever, almost talkative, and even playful at times. Today she's seeing the Darcy who garners the friendship of people like Bing and Fitz. It's striking, the difference in him. This version of Darcy pulls off his scarf to swat at his little sister when she gets a little too carried away with the camera.

A whole other side to him is revealed to her today, another piece to this jigsaw of a man that she's only just beginning to know. The casual neckwear version of Darcy is more than she expected.


	6. Chapter 6

She made lunch plans with Gigi today who, of course, has to "drop something off" for her brother before they leave work—"Just meet me at William's office at noon and we can head out from there!"—At this point she wouldn't put it past Gigi to shove her into Darcy's office and barricade the two of them in there, so she approaches with caution. The door is open and she can hear Gigi laughing from inside. She leans around the doorframe to announce her presence and stops dead…does a quick mental replay of her karaoke excursion with Gigi over the weekend—she had been pretty tipsy at one point, maybe she'd confessed to Gigi her weakness for Darcy's ties and then blocked it from her memory—but no. Completely on accident, Gigi has sprung her best Lizzie Trap yet.

Darcy is standing in front of his desk, fingers draped with ties—arms as well—all the way up to his elbows, a few even thrown over his shoulders for good measure. Gigi looks to be comparing color, texture, and whatever else one looks for in a tie, against the ice blue of her brother's shirt.

"Oh, hey, Lizzie," Gigi spots her in the doorway, "help me out here, which tie?"

Her eyes have yet to leave Darcy, who stands sheepish and still, slightly pink in the cheeks.

"I have and important investors meeting," he clears his throat and looks at Gigi with a raised brow, "Gigi insists that I must 'look the part.'"

"Hey, no complaining!" Gigi insists, "The right tie can make all the difference. And this is the one right here," she plucks a strip of fabric from his shoulder, "the texture brings out your eyes, right, Lizzie?"

"Right. Uhh, yeah, that one is great. Good. Yeah." She wipes sweaty palms on her skirt as Darcy shrugs off the rejected ties, leaving his sister to place them back on their hangers. He pops his collar to wind the chosen tie around his neck then folds it back into place.

Her fingers itch again as she watches the way his work at the fabric, deftly looping and pulling, cinching the tie up to rest in the hollow of his throat. She feels as if he's just done the same things to her insides. Tugging, twisting knotting—his fingers weave anxiety through excitement, tying her all up inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay all, this is the last chapter, I hope you've all enjoyed :)**

* * *

They've always looked at each other in turns—switching off staring while the other looks away. The few times they've truly locked eyes, she was overwhelmed, too much reflected back at her. They sit next to each other, together again after what seems like lifetimes, the weight of their past mixes with the present. So much has gone between, so many things said and done…and she finds that she suddenly can't meet his eyes—burning blue with confusion, adoration, and hope. Desire at war with disbelief. The naked want in his eyes is too much for her, so she focuses on the spot she's come to love. Professes her gratitude to the knot of his tie. Punctuates the important words by meeting his eyes.

It's all too much, he's too much—he's everything. The dislike and anger that used to fuel her are distant memories, she moves now with excitement…hope…love—with the desire to be close, close, closer. Her fingers that have been so eager, for so long, have finally found purchase on the grey fabric at this throat. Part of her fears that if she releases his tie he'll disappear—something or someone else will come between them and she will lose this last chance.

For so long she's denied him, denied herself, pushed away any attraction, focused on her anger and resentment, and then she couldn't hate him any more, and now she loves him. All the things she used to find repellent, she now loves the best. She loves his awkwardness, his formal manner and his ridiculous phrasing. Loves his stubbornness and his anger and his passion. She loves his suspenders and his newsie hats, his hipster glasses, and his absurd bow ties.

She thinks that the first thing she loved about him were those ties. The first part of him she'd come to appreciate, the first piece of him she'd allowed herself to see, to admire, to desire. Those ties bewitched her. And now she has him, bow ties, stubbornness, and all. She wants to tangle her fingers so thoroughly in his tie that she'll never be parted from him.


End file.
